First Series
by greenflavouredink
Summary: Lassiter is shot, and Lassiter recovers.
1. First Shots

Title: First Shots

**Title: **First Shots  
**Author:** Kinabaki  
**Beta:****worldpresident**  
**Pairing: **None really  
**Rating: **PG-13 for the F-bomb.

Carlton Lassiter had been shot.

As a seasoned veteran of the Santa Barbara Police Department this didn't much surprise him. The man had been working as a cop for ten years; of course he'd been shot at before. Hell, it was bound to happen that an occasional bullet would magically find its way into Lassiter and do some damage. However, it had been a very long time since Lassiter had last been hit, and he was reminded why:

Bullets fucking _hurt_.

Lassiter's body went through too many stages of shock to bother keeping him upright; his knees folded forwards causing his torso to fall back onto the side of his car. The ground rushed up to catch him, jarring his lower back painfully into the unforgiving concrete. Lassiter watched as the blue of his shirt, the one friends said brought out his eyes, changed, evolved, mutated into a sick red. Not the healthy pinkish red of his liver and lungs or the angry red of a split lip, but a sick, dying, diseased red. The kind of red Lassiter saw when he escorted victims into the autopsy rooms or morgue. The kind of red he'd looked for at crime scene, or on a suspect's hands.

His hands.

Carlton Lassiter had been shot, and there was only one thing on his mind:

_"Well Psychic, did you see that coming?"_


	2. First Memories

**Title:**First Days  
**Author:** Kinabaki  
**Beta:**  
**Pairing: **None really  
**Rating: **PG

Carlton Lassiter doesn't remember much from the first few days of his recovery.

He doesn't remember O'Hara's unwavering insistence to stay near-by, out of duty, out of loyalty, out of friendship. He doesn't remember Chief Vick tirading about like an enraged mother hen, flustered and ruffled and worried about one of her chics. He doesn't remember his own mother sitting stoically in her chair, watching her son pass the same way as his father.

He remembers Spencer though.

He remembers the faint smell of fresh pineapples, and thinking that even on his deathbed that stupid "psychic" would continue to annoy him.

Lassiter remembers wondering if he could somehow talk to Spencer from the other-side and get the psychic to hand out a few messages after he'd passed away.

"_Tell my mother I love her,_

_Tell O'Hara she'll do fine,_

_Tell my Ex she was right,_

_Tell the Chief that it was an honor working under her."_

He remembers thinking that he's not quite ready to give up being a detective yet and that maybe he could stick around to help Spencer solve cases from beyond the grave. He remembers in a moment of lucidity dismissing those earlier thoughts as the morphine talking and fading back into a fuzzy dream.

Carlton Lassiter doesn't remember much from the first few days of his recovery, but he does remember Spencer.


	3. First Breaths

**Title:**First Breaths  
**Author:** Kinabaki  
**Beta:**  
**Pairing: **None really  
**Rating: **PG-13 for the D-word.

Carlton Lassiter was too stubborn to die.

The bullet had ripped through skin and muscle only to lodge itself snugly along side his organs and in the process it managed to do an impressive amount of damage.

It had been touch and go there for awhile, more touch than go, but in the end Lassiter survived long enough to be deemed as "stable" and then "recovering."

The bullet didn't kill him.

The bleedout didn't kill him.

The bed rest didn't kill him.

The physical therapy just might.

Carlton's therapist was a younger man with eyes that were warm with sympathy but determined enough to give you the kick in the butt needed to recover and recover well damnit.

As the therapist walked him through various breathing and stretching routines a small voice in the back of Carlton's head, one that sounded uncannily like Spencer's, started cracking jokes about Lamaze breathing and feeling the burn.

"_C'mon Lassy! In in out. In in out. Hoo hoo hee. Hoo hoo hee."_


	4. First Steps

**Title:**First Steps  
**Author:** Kinabaki  
**Beta:**  
**Pairing: **None really  
**Rating: **PG

Lassiter crumples gratefully into the unforgiving wood of a fading bench and lets out a heavy gust of air.

He feels a bubble of shame and disappointment boil its way up his throat as well. Lassiter used to be able to run a few miles before he was this exhausted, but now a measly two blocks wears him out. True, back then he wasn't recovering from a sever gun shot wound and intense physical therapy but that's besides the point.

Carlton takes a moment to regulate his breathing and enjoy the view around him because O'Hara was right, this really is a peaceful view.

And Carlton realizes that he would die for this city and the people living in it and that means a whole lot more now than it did a couple of months ago and that scares him a little.


	5. First Day

**Title: **First Day Back  
**Author:** Kinabaki  
**Beta:**  
**Pairing: **None really  
**Rating: **PG

Detective Lassiter's first day back to work has been one impressive headache after another.

It all started with Lassiter being denied coffee. Something about how he shouldn't ingest a lot of caffeine while taking strong pain meds, but not worry! Chief Vick just so happened to have a lot of herbal tea leftover from her pregnancy and she has no problem sharing it with Lassiter, and the rest of the Santa Barbara Police Department for that matter.

Detective Carlton Lassiter has never been a popular person, but he has never received so many dirty glares before, either.

McNab and O'Hara spend the first morning trailing after Lassiter like overly protective little puppies. Every few minutes asking if Lassiter was alright or if they could fetch the him something? Papers, pens, tea, animal crackers, or perhaps a comfier chair? How about cushions? When one of them suggests Carlton call it a day and leave early he reminds them that he's recovering from a shot wound and that he is not some invalid that needs them to hold his hand.

Lassiter hadn't really meant to snap, but he could only put up with the moddy coddling for so long. Strangely enough that seemed to put McNab at ease.

Naturally O'Hara is a little harder to shake off. She's managed to stick by Lassiter's side for a good portion of the afternoon and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

Lassiter popped a total of three pain pills and downed a few gallons of that hippy tea, and despite spending all morning on paperwork he's still nowhere near making a dent in it when Spencer comes flouncing in. The psychic moves like he's got a vision to share and by the way he's twitching it should be a real doozy. Spencer's eyes honed in on Lassiter's desk and he made a beeline for it.

"Lassy! I sensed you would need my help today more than usual!"

Lassiter's jaw clenched into a pained wince, and he was just about ready to do something he'd really regret when O'Hara runs interference, and keeps the chief's pet psychic as far away from Lassiter as possible.

All things said and done, it wasn't that horrible of a first day back.


End file.
